Fierce and Fiery

"Will H-Harry be wanting his nutrient potion?" Beemy asked, her lip quivering slightly.

"Yes please," Harry replied, breathing heavily. He had managed to convince the elf to call him by his real name - it felt strange to be called a Lord.

"Reducto!" The last target remaining disintegrated and Harry drunkenly made his way to a seat. Beemy returned with the nutrient potion as well as another goblet filled with liquid.

"This will help H-Harry with his tiredness," she said.

He took the drink and swigged it, immediately feeling his energy levels rise. "Cheers Beemy," he smiled. He took the nutrient potion, then got up out of his seat.

"Should Beemy prepare breakfast?" the Elf asked eagerly.

"That would be lovely. I just need to talk to Godric first." Harry had moved the book to his quarters from his dorm, so he could be guaranteed privacy. He opened it and transported in. They were in the office again.

"You are enjoying my quarters, I presume," Godric said a little smugly.

"Yes," Harry conceded, taking his seat. "They are very nice."

It had been nearly a week since Harry had first found the place. There were many rooms for him to explore, including a dining room, a library, a bath not dissimilar to a pool, and the training room which Harry used regularly. Also, Beemy was very helpful, and he enjoyed her company.

"Any hindrances?" Godric asked.

"No, just another normal day. I have a flying lesson with the Slytherins, though," Harry muttered darkly.

His mind had jumped to a certain Slytherin he had a strong disliking for, by the name of Draco Malfoy. Last night, he'd insulted Hermione so much that he found her crying after Potions. It made him feel sick to the stomach.

"You have a disliking for the Slytherins?" Godric asked with an understanding look.

"You could say that," Harry replied. He was thinking about what Hermione had said when he had tried to console her.

"Oh Harry, it's nothing. Bookworm… buck teeth… I've been called all those things before. I wasn't expecting it here though, you know."

"I'll find him," Harry said. "I'll hex that little-"

"-No you won't. This won't happen again, I swear. Besides, you're a busy boy, always disappearing off on your own somewhere. You don't even eat at the Hall anymore… Don't trouble yourself."

She then retired to her dorm, leaving Harry feeling as if he were a worse person than Voldemort himself.

Harry looked at Godric and spoke firmly. "I've made friends now — people I finally care about. I can't push them away, no matter how important this is." He paused before he said the next bit. "So I'm going to tell Hermione."

"Your Hermione, I know you find her pretty-"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"-but do you trust her? Completely."

Harry had only known her for a week, but he had grown fond of her. She was smart, caring, supportive, hard-working, funny… But complete trust?

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Maybe one day, but I'll never find out if I don't let her in on this. I like her and I want her to know – she's a great witch."

Godric inclined his head. "Then do as you wish. You do not need my permission — I am not real, remember?"

"Oh you might as well be," Harry scoffed.

"You are Lord Gryffindor, and I am quite dead."

Harry frowned, but nodded in acceptance. "Thank you, Mr Gryffindor," he said, closing the book.

He entered the main room, where Beemy had set up a magnificent array of pastries and fruits.

"Will H-Harry be having breakfast now?" she asked.

"One moment. I'll be back with a friend," he said.

He wandered the empty morning castle, passing the forbidden third floor corridor with curiosity. I shouldn't investigate. He wasn't looking to die today.

Anxiously, he entered the Great Hall, thankful that Hermione had chosen to stick to their early morning schedule, despite the fiasco last night. However, her hair was wilder than usual, and her eyes were puffy, evidently from crying. She saw Harry and stood up, concern etched on her face.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said, scratching the back of his head.

"Harry," she began. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean what I said last night. I was just so angry. Malfoy is such a - well… he's a complete git! I should have just ignored him. Please forgive me."

She looked down, fidgeting with her sleeves. Harry looked back blankly. He had expected him to be one to shower Hermione with apologies, not the other way round.

"Hermione, what you said last night-"

"-was wrong. Please, you still want to be my friend, don't you?" She looked very nervous as she asked this.

"Hermione, what you said last night was spot on. I've been a bad friend this past week, leaving you on your own. I should have spent more time with you, or at least let you know where I was. I'm sorry."

Her pained expression faded, a smile creeping into its place.

"Friends," he said, offering his hand.

"Friends," she repeated, shaking it gratefully.

"And now, I'm going to show you where I've been disappearing to," he said. She arched her brow.

"Follow me."

Harry led her back down the route he had just taken, his anticipation growing with every step. Hermione shivered as the corridors became colder and less inviting.

She stopped in her tracks, looking a little sickly. "Harry, I should turn back. I don't want to be late for lessons, plus my hair's a mess. You can show me later."

He looked at her oddly, then it suddenly clicked.

"Hermione, shake it off. It's a compulsion charm."

"A compulsion charm…" she repeated worriedly. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing in an attempt to regain her senses. He had read about compulsion charms, and knew there was a slim chance of that working.

"Take my hand."

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes.

"Just do it," Harry said with his hand outstretched. She took it cautiously, but as soon as their skin made contact her face seemed to glow positively.

"Better?" he asked.

"Lots."

Soon, they approached the wooden door. "Ladies first," Harry said, letting go of her.

Cautiously, Hermione pushed the door open and gasped. Harry nudged her forwards, satisfied with her reaction.

"Harry, this is…" She seemed to be searching for the right words of admiration when Beemy popped into existence in front of them, causing Hermione to squeal.

Beemy bowed low as she spoke. "Harry is back with his friend."

"Hermione, meet Beemy. Beemy, this is Hermione, she'll be coming here regularly," Harry said. "Breakfast?" he offered Hermione.

She nodded slowly as they took their seats, still looking bewildered. "But how?"

It was a valid question. "Hermione, this might sound weird at first, but I'm not just Harry Potter," he said.

She looked back incredulously. "So you have a secret identity?" she half-joked, but her face fell when she saw him shift slightly. "But that's so… Who are you really then?"

Harry laughed at this. "I'm still Harry Potter, the same person who made friends with you on the Express, but there's also something I've been hiding from everyone." He stopped to take a breath before he dropped the bombshell.

"I'm Doctor Who."

The look she gave him was terrifying.

"Okay I'm joking - I'm the Heir of Gryffindor."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Gryffindor. You."

"Yes. Me."

"But you can't be. The line ended with Godric Gryffindor. He died with no children and chose not to pass on his title. It said so in-"

"-Hogwarts: A History, and that's where you're wrong. Godric thought that people would abuse the power he had built if he left it behind, so he vanished everything he owned. He created a spell with Rowena Ravenclaw to pass his title on to a suitable Heir if one ever came, and I was chosen."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I have a book that only I can see, in which I converse with a replica of Godric himself. It might as well be him, as it has all his thoughts and memories. It's a bit like a portrait."

Hermione shook her head. "This is a lot."

"I know, but I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know, so I wouldn't have to push you away."

Her eyes widened. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"I understand if you need some time to process, but… Maybe a tour of the library will help appease your mind," he suggested, enjoying the instant effect of his words.

She jumped out of her seat. "You have a library? Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry just laughed.

"Don't forget the cockroaches Neville," Harry warned.

"Oh, yeah," Neville said, searching his muddled ingredients in disarray.

Potions had gone relatively smoothly so far, as Harry and Hermione quietly perfected their potions. Malfoy, however, had a sinister look about him, so Harry knew the peace was only momentary.

Snape walked past Harry, ignoring him as he had done all week. He stopped at Neville and Ron, sneering at their cauldrons.

"Longbottom, it appears to have slipped your mind to let the potion simmer after adding the Hippogriff feathers. This potion would cause lifelong hiccups if ever consumed."

Harry cursed under his breath. He had forgotten to warn Neville about that.

"Weasley, what shade was this potion meant to be by this stage?"

"I don't know, Sir," Ron replied darkly.

"It is written on the board, or do you not possess the ability to read?"

Malfoy and his little group sniggered. Snape just continued. "The potion should have been a pale yellow, not this revolting green. You will write me an additional essay on the exact methods and ingredients needed to achieve the correct colour, and I expect it on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

Malfoy and his entourage made no attempt to disguise their amusement, their laughter creeping upon Harry's nerves.

"Greasy git," Ron muttered as he and Neville attempted to salvage their concoctions.

"What's wrong Weasel?" Malfoy called out. "Could your parents not afford books when you were younger? Or are you just that much of a dimwit?"

Ron grumbled angrily, his hand shooting for his wand.

"Ron, no!" Hermione exclaimed.

Malfoy let out another laugh. "Stay out of this Granger! We don't want you crying again now, do we? Actually, that was a lie. Watching you run out of here was the most entertaining thing I've seen all week."

Crabbe and Goyle were now bursting with laughter, tears leaking from their eyes as they banged their desks with glee.

Hermione gave them a frosty look, turning her attention back to her workspace.

"Leave my friends alone, Malfoy," Harry said coolly.

"Or what?" he retorted.

"Or I'll leave your face looking like a troll's arse."

It was the Gryffindors' turn to laugh, as Malfoy spluttered in rage. "My father will have you expelled for that!"

Harry felt Hogwarts' magic swell, conveying its disagreement to this statement. "I'd like to see him try."

"Sir!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Yes, Draco," Snape said. He had turned his back to the whole incident.

"What are you going to do about this?"

Snape just looked at Malfoy blankly. "About what?" he asked simply, and then carried on walking around the room.

"You didn't have to do that, Harry," Hermione said.

"Yeah mate, five more seconds and I would have hexed his hair off," Ron added.

Harry shrugged. "No one talks to my friends like that."

Hermione gave him an appreciative smile.

After Snape's wave of dismissal, everyone rushed out of the class for their break time. Everyone, but Harry.

He walked up to the desk where the teacher sat.

"I'd like to thank you, Professor."

Snape looked up at Harry.

"Sit down," he said. There was no malice in his eyes.

Awkwardly, Harry stood for a moment, before deciding to comply.

"I have thought a lot about what happened at your first lesson. I acted harshly towards you and for that I would like to apologise."

"I- I accept your apology," Harry said, baffled. Unsure of what to do next, he got up from his seat, but then they made brief eye contact. And from what he saw in that brief moment, Harry found himself compelled to sit back down. For Snape's eyes were not blank and cold anymore; they were lost. As if they were looking at a ghost. And then it started to make sense.

"Sir, you made it clear to me that you and my father didn't get along, but my mother… You knew her as well?"

Snape's face slipped, allowing some emotion to be shown, but his mask was back as quickly as it was gone. "Yes."

"Was she a friend?"

"Yes."

Harry paused as he felt his heart ache. He looked at the man softly. "Can you tell me about her?"

Snape drew back with a harsh gasp, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, using his black sleeves to wipe his face.

"No, it's okay," Harry said, trying to process what was happening.

"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry…" Snape took a deep breath, attempting to control his shaking. After a few moments, he looked back up. "I owe you the truth."

Harry nodded.

"Your mother - we met when we were children, six months before we would receive our Hogwarts letters. I had been watching her, admiring her for a while. To find someone like me. Someone with magic… All I ever wanted to do was watch her." Snape smiled smally, a look Harry thought was nice on his face, like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw.

"I was quite satisfied with watching, that was until I got caught. Lily's sister - your aunt - she found me. I had to explain myself. I showed them what Lily could do, that it was all normal. I told them it was magic. But Petunia-"

"Let me guess, she called you a freak," Harry said exasperatedly.

Snape laughed. It was low and coarse - another new thing that Harry rather enjoyed. "Yes, that's exactly what she did. Lily didn't agree with her though, she knew I was speaking the truth. After that, we'd meet every day, to do magic, to talk..."

"She was your first friend," Harry smiled, to which Snape smiled back. Like me and Hermione. "So you must have really hated my father, to treat me the way you did."

Snape looked away shamefacedly. "Your father was a bully. Lily deserved more, and seeing you, it was proof that she loved him. She loved the man that had tormented me since the first time we had boarded the Hogwarts Express."

"But I am not a bully," Harry said.

"I see that now. I am sorry." Snape sighed, a long regretful sigh. "When you first entered the Great Hall, all I could see was Potter. You look very similar, and I thought you would be just as arrogant and pompous. This was my mistake, which you called me out for."

Snape paused, deciding to look directly into Harry's eyes. "Then you spoke to me, and your eyes… They were so fierce, so fiery, so familiar. It was the exact look Lily would give when she was angry, and she never held anything back." He gave another chuckle.

"When you left my classroom that afternoon, all I could imagine was what Lily would have thought…"

"Don't worry," Harry said. "You've made amends."

Snape closed his eyes. "This was unprofessional. I shouldn't have broken down in front of you, a student…"

"But now I know."

There was a trace of a smile on Snape's face.

The Gryffindors nervously trotted down the grounds to a smooth area of grass, where the Slytherins were already waiting. Lined up in the middle were some battered broomsticks, and standing next to them was a stout-looking woman with short, grey hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes.

"I am Madame Hooch," she called out. "Everyone stand by a broomstick!"

Hurriedly, the crowd dispersed, sorting themselves into order.

"Place your right hand over the broom, and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" they all yelled. Harry's broom, along with a few others, shot straight up into his hand. Ron's had made it halfway before falling back to the ground, Hermione's had twitched slightly, and Neville's hadn't even moved at all.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was busy gloating to anyone who would listen about his unmatched prowess in the art of flying. Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two-"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

Oh no.

Instinctively, Harry flew up to reach him, and both he and Neville became subjects to a lot of shouting and screaming from below.

"Harry, help!" Neville yelled as he rose higher and higher, his face drained of all colour.

"Hold on Neville!" Harry called back as he pointed his broom upwards. The wind blew Harry's hair back as he shot up into the sky, catching up with Neville.

"Neville, you need to relax!" Harry said, but his words seemed to have the opposite effect as Neville lost grip of his broom and slid off, hurtling back towards the ground rapidly.

Harry nosedived to interrupt Neville's fall, catching him so Neville latched onto Harry's back and wriggled his way down onto the broom. Relieved, they flew back down, Neville's broom soaring off into the distance.

"Longbottom! Potter!" Madame Hooch yelled as they landed. "Never in all my years of teaching at Hogwarts have I had an incident like this! I have no clue what I am going to do with you two!"

"I'll deal with this." It was Professor McGonagall, looking quite stunned.

Harry was about to say something about saving Neville's life when the boy lurched over and proceeded to throw up.

"Oh dear," McGonagall said, transfiguring a bucket into Neville's hands. "You two, follow me," she said, once Neville's stomach seemed to have emptied.

They took Neville to the Hospital Wing and left him in the care of Madame Pomfrey. Afterwards, they walked down the corridors towards the DADA Department.

"Am I in trouble, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Not quite, Mr Potter," she replied. "However, I must ask – are you any good at catching?"

"Catching? I guess so." Harry had enjoyed playing with tennis balls, as he could easily hide them from Dudley in his oversized pockets.

McGonagall gave a slight harrumph and carried on her march. They approached Quirrell's classroom, where he was teaching a group of fifth years.

"Professor, may I borrow Wood?" McGonagall asked.

"Wood? Y-Yes of c-course," Quirrell stuttered.

A tall, broad-shouldered boy stepped outside, looking at Harry curiously. McGonagall led them to an empty classroom and faced the two boys.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I think I've found you a seeker."

Wood's puzzled expression transformed into one of delight. "A seeker – Harry Potter? Are you sure Professor?"

"I watched him dive faster than Charlie Weasley ever could, and then he caught the Longbottom boy on his back. With a bit of catching practice, I have no doubt he will be a fine seeker."

Wood was bouncing with joy, looking Harry up and down. "He has the right build – small, nimble. Tell me Harry, have you ever played Quidditch?"

Harry shook his head. That was something he hadn't even read about. "Well I'm Gryffindor Captain, and now you're on the team I'll have to show you the ropes."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"I don't know how you've managed to worm your way into the team, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "But my father did say that the staff here would kiss your arse. Some of us see right through you."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron retorted. He hadn't forgotten the earlier remark Malfoy had directed at him.

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly as Malfoy spoke. "Listen here Potter, I challenge you to a Wizard's duel, if you have the bottle?"

Ron looked like he was about to agree, but Harry held his hand up to stop him. "I'm not an idiot, Malfoy. Besides, I don't need to prove anything. Everyone already knows I'm ten times the wizard you are, and the only people who'd challenge that are the ones that, as you put it - 'kiss your arse.'"

"You're just scared Potter," Malfoy grumbled, though he was looking slightly embarrassed.

Harry gave one of his charming laughs. To think the Heir of Gryffindor was scared of the big, bad bully that was Draco Malfoy…

"You're a joke mate. Now do as Ron says, and shove off."